


new romantics

by eg1701



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Incredibly self indulgent, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Probably a little OOC, Self-Indulgent, i was listening to six when i wrote this, probably not canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26703499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eg1701/pseuds/eg1701
Summary: Sometime down the road, Tom brings up marriage for the first time. Greg's not sure how to respond.
Relationships: Greg Hirsch/Tom Wambsgans
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	new romantics

**Author's Note:**

> this wouldn't leave my head so i have decided to make that every one else's problem...
> 
> title is (of course) from taylor swift's song of the same name

Tom had a habit of getting up early. Greg would feel him slide out of bed, and would hear the bathroom door open. Sometimes it was just bright enough to see, other times the sun hadn’t even begun to rise over the horizon yet. Why one would get up, voluntarily, before it was even _light_ out, was still unclear to Greg, but in the winter, the bed would be freezing in the mornings, and Greg figured he might as well get up too. At least this morning it wasn’t pitch black out. Maybe Tom had slept through his alarm once or twice. 

“Here,” Tom held out a coffee mug, still steaming. Instead, Greg put his head on Tom’s shoulder, stifling a yawn as he did, “Why do you get up if you’re just gonna be a fucking sloth on me?”

“It’s cold,” Greg replied, “I think it’s cause the ceilings are so high. Lotta drafts.”

“Idiot,” Tom muttered, but he kissed the top of Greg’s head and put the coffee into his hands,   
“Drink. It’ll wake you up.”

“You’re not going running are you?”

“Well I thought I might.”

“Don’t,” Greg knew he was being clingy, but he felt Tom laugh under him, “Stay here. It’s fucking cold out.”

“You’re like a little kid. Stand up.” But he made no effort to push Greg off of him, and in fact, Greg was pretty sure he tightened his grip, “You know what I was thinking about? Last night after you fell asleep?”

“Hmm?”

“I was thinking that we could actually get married now. Might be nice. Tax benefits. Healthcare. Etcetera.”

“That’s romantic.” 

Tom laughed, “Well, marriage _is_ a legal condition. Maybe it’s best to keep fucking romance out of it. It’s just a suggestion. I’m not fucking proposing. I’m just speaking.”

“I know you’re not,” Greg said, and that was true. He did _not_ expect a proposal out of Tom. He probably never would. He’d long since quit thinking about marriage between them in general. Tom had made it more than clear that marriage had fucked him over once. In fact, he thought Tom was probably more anti-marriage than not, and the fact that he’d ever brought it up was pretty surprising. 

“Still,” Tom sighed, “A second marriage. It’s probably a higher rate of divorce right? Should I just go for like six marriages like Henry the Eighth or something?”

“Dude, if that’s the case I’m getting my head cut off.”

Tom laughed louder this time. It cut through the winter silence nicely. It also made Greg feel a little warmer inside. 

“I think six is like, a little, excessive,” Greg finally said. He pulled away from Tom and leaned against the counter, sipping at his coffee slowly. The warmth was leaching into his hands, “I mean. Two is kinda normal.”

“Don’t agree to marriage Greg, I’m not proposing.”

“I know.”

He was pretty sure he didn’t let anything show on his face. He wasn’t hurt by Tom’s words-- he really wasn’t. It wasn’t anything new, but he still, some deep down part of him, the part that he couldn’t seem to get rid off was still hoping that Tom would change his mind. That was the stupid part.

“You don’t want to get married do you?” Tom asked quietly. Apparently, he hadn’t hid it as well as he thought, “Did you want to get married?”

“No like, I was just kinda surprised is all. By what you said. That’s all.”

“I was surprised I was _thinking_ it. I haven’t thought about it for… a while now. What, have you been thinking about getting married?”

Greg shrugged, “Not really.”

“What the fuck does that mean, not really? You either have or you haven’t.”

“I mean like yeah, before. But it’s fine, I just didn’t think you would say anything about it.”

Tom pulled back, frowning, “What the fuck. What the fuck do you mean you’ve thought about marriage. Like between _us?_ Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I mean, of course I did,” Greg said, “Like, back at the beginning of all this but I knew it wasn’t, like, real, so I just stopped thinking about it. You know what I mean? Like I wasn’t going to bring it up to you after the divorce. I thought it might be… touchy.”

“ _Touchy?_

“Yeah man,” Greg rubbed the back of his neck, “Like a touchy subject. I just, I never want you to think you had to get a divorce. Like for me.”

“It wasn’t for you.”

“I know, I know that. I’m just _saying._ ”

“Well fuck,” Tom put one hand on his hip, the other on the counter, like he was thinking over this conversation. Greg hadn’t meant to make him upset or worried about it. He hadn’t even been the one to bring marriage up, and Tom should have known that sometimes Greg just said things, without thinking through too much, “You want to get married.”

He didn’t ask it, he stated it, like he had already decided that was the truth. Greg shook his head.

“That’s opposite of what I said though. I literally said no.”

“You _do!_ ” Tom shook his head, laughing, “You want to be my _husband._ Legally and shit. Holy fuck. Married?”

“I didn’t say that though?”

Tom sighed, “I’m going for a run. I’ll be back in a bit.”

He kissed Greg on the cheek, and gathered his things before heading outside. He left Greg standing there like an idiot, wondering if he’d managed to fuck everything up. Why had Tom just up and left, in like, the middle of the conversation? Had he fucking scared him? He thought that he made it clear that he didn’t want to get married-- not if Tom didn’t-- but had that scared Tom off? It was clear they weren’t just hooking up, but maybe Tom wasn’t down for another marriage. Touchy was maybe an understatement, but that’s why Greg had never brought it up. 

He took a look at the coffee, but it was suddenly incredibly unappealing. He was fucking _terrified_ that Tom was going to break up with him over this, just up and leave. Maybe he wouldn't even do it himself, just send someone to collect his things and that would be that. 

But _why_ had Tom left? It was sort of a serious conversation, and didn’t he know that would make Greg freak out? 

***

Tom returned an hour and a half later. Greg had made several attempts to eat breakfast, but nothing had sounded good, and instead he gave up and took a long shower, figuring Tom would want it when he got back from his run.

“Here,” Tom held out a bag, like a little kid, Greg thought, handing over their artwork to an adoring parent or a bad grade on a test.

“What’s this?”

“Maybe if you opened it instead of staring at it like you’ve never seen a bag before you might be able to answer that question.”

Greg frowned, though he was pretty sure you didn’t buy people things and then dump them, so it was likely he’d been worrying for nothing. Tom tossed his jacket onto the sofa and poured a glass of water while Greg sat down at the table. The bag was more of a gift bag than a plastic bag, and he had absolutely no idea what it was.

“Oh my God, just open the bag Greg,” Tom said, “You’ve seen bags before. It’s not the fucking Mona Lisa.”

Greg managed a weak laugh and peeked inside, pulling out the tissue paper as he did so. Not only had Tom stopped into a store on his way, but he stopped somewhere that gift wrapped shit for you. A nice store. Was he trying to make up for how he had spoken earlier? Greg didn’t think it was the case-- Tom wasn’t really like that.

“Oh,” Greg said, pulling the box out. 

The box was jet black, and velvety. He popped it open, though he knew exactly what to expect. It was a ring box, that was obvious, but he still didn’t really believe it, even with the ring staring him in the face. 

Tom had fucking gone out and bought him a ring. What the fuck. 

“I shouldn’t have acted like that. Dismissing you earlier,” Tom shook his head and sighed, “We don’t have to get married ever. I don’t-- it’s not that I don’t care, but I’m alright with that, not getting married. But I just wanted you to know that if you _did_ want to get married, I’m asking you. Consider it a standing offer. Redeemable at any time. I was a dick about it, because it’s hard for me to think about getting married again really. I’m worried it’ll fuck us up. ‘Cause what’s happening right now is good. That’s all. Maybe it doesn’t mean as much to me as it does to you and that’s not fair of me, so I’m sorry. It’s, like, a promise ring I guess, as fucking annoying as that sounds. When you want it to be an engagement ring, it can be.”

“No that’s alright.” He kept staring at the box like he was imagining things. Was he being punked? 

“I didn’t know your ring size. I guessed. I thought about calling your mom but that felt like a commitment. We can just have it resized if and when you decide to cash in. The woman at the store said it would be easy enough.”

“Yeah,” Greg knew he wasn’t being very coherent, but he was _pretty_ sure half of his brain was still processing all this, and therefore wasn’t being helpful. He actually felt kind of stupid, but had Tom actually proposed to him? Not just dicked around discussing the pros and cons of it, but actually proposed?

“And uh,” Tom frowned, “I know it’s not very, well, I don’t know. Romantic? I know we’ve been less than affectionate together, but I love you. And I felt like maybe this might show you. I know I’m not the best at showing you.”

“I’m gonna be real with you man, I’m not convinced that I’m not dreaming.”

Tom laughed, “Want me to pinch you?”

“No, that’s alright.” Greg shut the box, then opened it again. Like the ring might have vanished if he opened it fast enough. Like he could fucking catch it in the act or something.

“Look,” Tom came over and dragged the other chair over so he and Greg were both sitting, eye level, “I know this is probably not what either of us thought when we were kids and thinking about marriage in the future or _whatever_. And I’m not saying that I even really gave marriage to you much thought before this morning, and I know that sounds kind of bad. But this is hard for me to do I guess? Is this the worst proposal in history?”

“There’s probably been worse. Like there’s got to have been worse. This wasn’t even that bad.”

“It was pretty bad,” Tom leaned forward and kissed him. Greg knew he was breathing heavily, knew his heart was beating fast and loud-- Tom could probably hear it. It was kind of embarrassing. Greg hadn’t actually thought much about marriage as a kid. It just seemed to never be anything to worry about. It was something adults did-- sometimes poorly, as his father had shown-- and Greg had other things to worry about. Maybe in college the idea had crossed his mind, but in the fleeting way it did when you fell for someone hard, and imagined briefly the life you might have. Greg hadn’t ever even really pursued anyone back then. It was easier to just figure shit out on his own, so why would he have considered marriage? 

You needed to have another person for marriage for starters.

And then Tom had actually been married, when this had technically begun, and so it was still off the table, and then the divorce had happened, and it was _still_ off the table, even though he’d begun to imagine it sometimes. 

Not that it had been on purpose. Just fleeting daydreams, thoughts late at night that rose to the surface without his permission. Before he’d forced himself to give it up entirely. 

But like. Fuck. Now it was staring him in the face.

“Cash it in whenever. I’m not fucking with you, you can call my bluff,” Tom said, and kissed his forehead, “I’m going to take a shower. It’s fucking freezing out.”

“Oh yeah. Alright.”

Tom shrugged at his apparent apathy about the situation, and got up. Greg heard him head back into the bathroom, and could faintly hear the water run. He opened the box again and gently took the ring out. He didn’t put it on-- that would have been too much, he thought, in that moment-- but examined it carefully. 

There was no doubt about it. It was a wedding band.

He needed to get his fucking head on straight, because Tom was going to think he wasn’t happy with the situation, when that was the farthest from the truth. He was really just in shock. That was all. The shock was setting in.

***  
He had gotten up by the time Tom got out of the shower and returned to the kitchen. He finally poured himself coffee and ate half a bagel while Tom dicked around on his laptop. Occasionally he could glance over, but if Tom was trying to meet his eye, Greg never seemed to catch him in the act.

“Do you not like it?” Tom asked suddenly, looking up, “Was it not the right thing to do?”

“What? Oh no,” he shook his head quickly, “No, man, I’m just like actually in shock from it. I can’t believe it happened.”

“You’re still on that?”

“To be fair I just got proposed to with literally zero warning. I mean is this a normal reaction?”

Tom smiled, “So you _do_ like it?”

“A lot. I like it a lot.”

“I hoped you would. Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to us?”

“Domesticity.”

Tom laughed, “Sounds like it. Look, if you don’t want to ever do anything with it that’s fine. I just-- I guess I just needed you to know that I was serious. Can I be done now?”

“Oh sure,” Greg smiled in spite of himself, “Thanks.”

“You’re such a fucking moron Greg, did you know that?”

They fell quiet. Tom flashed another smile, and, apparently content with Greg’s answer, returned to his work. Greg stuck another half of a bagel into the toaster and waited, turned away from Tom. He knew he was flushed, and sort of embarrassed-- in a good way. It was weird. He felt for the box in his pocket and found it still there. So it remained not a dream then.

“You’re a fucking moron,” Tom said again, “But I do love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh yeah thanks as always!


End file.
